Page 102 of The Revenge Game

Justin’s resulting smile is so warm that it makes December in London feel suddenly tropical.

And okay, I shouldn’t be making plans with him, but I still need to work out what the hell I’m going to do. How to retract myself from Justin’s life and leave behind minimal damage. It involves neutralizing the Xander issue. In a non-serial killer way.

But that’s tomorrow’s problem.

Tonight, I’m just going to enjoy being here.

Justin has just bought us paper cones of hot roasted chestnuts when I recognize a person walking toward us.

It’s Cheryl from HR. Her hair is loose around her face rather than in its usual stiff ponytail and she’s holding hands with a guy who looks like he moonlights as a rock star.

“Incoming,” I say in a low voice. “Do you want to pretend we just ran into each other here?”

Justin glances up. He stares directly at Cheryl, but there is only blankness on his face.

“Who is it?” he asks.

But I don’t have time to answer before Cheryl is upon us.

“Hello, you two. Fancy seeing you here.” Her voice has shed its HR polish, softened by what I suspect is several glasses of mulled wine.

I send a nervous glance at Justin because I’m not sure if he’s worried about Cheryl realizing we’re on a date.

Justin’s face is a generic mask.

“Hey, how are you?” he asks. His eyes flick between Cheryl and her boyfriend, and there’s a furrow between his brows.

“This is my boyfriend, Joesph,” she says. “Joesph, these are my colleagues, Justin and Drew.”

“Nice to meet you.”

We exchange pleasantries and then make small talk about the Winter Wonderland and the Christmas party next week.

Justin’s face has cleared during our conversation.

“You picked the perfect night to come,” he tells Cheryl and Joesph. “Apparently, they’re doing some special Christmas light show at nine.”

“That sounds like fun,” Cheryl says.

“Although I’m just repeating what the very enthusiastic guy dressed as an elf told me, so maybe verify that before planning your evening around it.”

“We’ll check it out,” Cheryl promises. “Anyway, nice to see you guys. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Justin says.

As Cheryl and Joesph walk away, my brain starts to churn, pinging through a whole series of seemingly unrelated memories.

Justin’s behavior over the past few minutes interacting with Cheryl. Ping.

That day at Wimbledon, when he didn’t spot where the sales team was seated. Ping.

Also at Wimbledon, when he didn’t realize I’d been talking to Catherine Zhang until Dave mentioned it. Ping.

And the realization blooms in my head, causing me to spin around to stare at Justin.

“You didn’t recognize her at first, did you?”

Chapter Twenty-Eight